


Old Wounds

by 3x3



Series: History Is Written By The Victors [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, I hold them so close to my heart;;;;, i finally finished it!!!!!! ahhhhhhhhh it's been so long!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3x3/pseuds/3x3
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime opened the door to his deceased friend, who was not so deceased as he'd originally thought.The reunion story.Probably would not make much sense without Good News (He's Dead) but be my guest if you insist.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru
Series: History Is Written By The Victors [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886065
Kudos: 6





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> I return to this world a year later.  
> I had to go back to gnhd so many times to make sure the timeline made sense fhdsfkladh oh well.  
> i've always known i loved iwaizumi but lately it's gotten real intense. he's a good and i wish him happiness.

People in mourning will say the most ridiculous and embarrassing things, which was just fundamentally unfair, seeing as Hajime had had too many chances to mourn for too much, resulting in him having more run-ins with post-mourning nonsense.

Hajime was an experienced mourner, which would bring about the _other_ injustice of mourning: it never got easier. As a soldier, there was no escape from Death. He'd lower comrade after comrade into the soil, more than he could keep track of, and each time his heart got squeezed so tightly he couldn't breathe. A pain would drill itself into the center of his chest, lodging behind his ribs.

There was never a time when he _wouldn't_ suddenly be struck with how fickle Life could be. Just earlier that day, you could be up and about, _alive_ , chatting merrily about a funny story that happened at work, swapping bad jokes with the hearty diner-owner as he served your beer, or maybe trying your best to learn how to braid flowers into your little sister's hair because she'd been begging for it for _weeks_. Death struck, and now you're a lifeless empty shell, a human-shaped piece of meat that used to harbor your soul.

(Back home, your bed would be well-slept. Your room would be the mess you left it in, because you find tranquility in the chaos. There would be fresh bread sitting on your table, courtesy of that nice pair of newly-weds that just moved next door. Your house would be waiting for an owner that would never return.)

It never got easier, not in the sense that Hajime would feel less horrified. But he supposed that at least he knew to expect those symptoms.

So when Hajime heard about the doom of the Grand Demon King of Aoba, he thought he would be prepared.

He was not. Nothing could prepare him when he lost a piece of him with the death of his childhood best friend.

That was why Hajime felt like he should be entitled to _rage_ , to _fume_ when the supposedly dead Oikawa Tooru showed up at his doorstep.

“Hi!” the familiar face of Absolute Atrocities beams cheerfully from under the graying skies.

“What the fuck?” Hajime responded, totally reasonable, then proceeded to almost slam the door, quite literally, into Oikawa’s face, lastingly ruining that irritating nose of his. A shame that magic was a thing that existed which prevented the occurrence, so all he got was a trial of hauntingly familiar squawks of protest.

* * *

In truth though, Hajime didn't know what to feel.

_I called in sick for_ you. He thought viciously. _Do you know how hard it is to call in sick when the entire country is in celebration?_

The only relief was that Oikawa looked equally nervous across his dining table, face stretched in a rigid smile. And Hajime knew that no doubt his fingers would be tapping a restless rhythm on his knees.

This was Oikawa Tooru, notorious Demon King overthrown, as well as Hajime's childhood best friend. He was familiar territory, but at the exact same time, worlds away.

The atmosphere was a little too odd for Hajime to properly decipher, so he poured himself another cup of tea.

"So," Oikawa started cautiously. "I'm sure you have many questions."

"You're supposed to be dead." Hajime replied icily. " _Dead_." He chucked his teacup at Oikawa's head. There was a crash, then a high-pitched scream.

" _Hey!_ That hurt, you know!"

Hajime narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. So Oikawa was really there, and not just a figment of his imagination. It was nice to at least know that he was not just going crazy. "Quit whining. You could've dodged that just fine."

"Well, yeah." Oikawa grimaced. "But I kind of feel like I deserved a cup to the face."

"I see _someone's_ gone and grown some empathy."

Oikawa shifted in his seat. Probably out of discomfort. Hajime wasn't sure how well he could still read Oikawa after all those years apart. He shuffled his feet to a more comfortable position. "How are you _here_?"

“Well.” Oikawa blew out some air, puffing up his cheeks. “When a mommy and a daddy loves each other very very much-”

“Not that, you dimwit! You _know_ what I mean.”

He gnawed down on his lips. Another habitual tick of his. “It wasn’t all that hard, actually. I made a fake corpse, some idiots bought the story. I live.”

Hajime shook his head, still in disbelief. “And that actually _worked_?”

Oikawa shrugged, a little helpless. At that moment, he looked a little too slight in his capes, and Hajime was suddenly reminded of a youthful, bony, identical face staring up at him.

“You managed your escape all by yourself?” He asked finally.

At that, Oikawa flushed suspiciously red. “I had some help, I guess.”

“Help.” He echoed. Years of intense military training sharpened his senses, and right now, every single one of them were edging by their seats awkwardly, ready to bolt at any given second. The Oikawa in Hajime’s memories were still mostly composed of the idea of a very young child, when most social topics involved bug-catching. While Hajime was capable of making small gossipy talk, he’d never imagined he’d be sharing such topics with _Oikawa,_ a person of the past. The conversation was veering into unfamiliar territory, and Hajime wasn’t sure he could stomach _relationship drama._

“Yes. Help. His name is Futakuchi Kenji.”

“And? What happened to him?”

Oikawa frowned at that. “What do you mean what happened to him? He’s at home I’d assume. Why?”

“He’s not with you?”

Oikawa’s frown deepened. “Why would he be with me?”

_Ah._ Hajime thought. Then he said it out loud. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I assumed-” _You’re intimate. Or at least will they/won’t they._ “I mean your face got really red just now and I feel so uncomfortable talking about you with this because what the fuck? You actually got hitched.”

Oikawa responded in a mock horror, a hand curling in front of his chest. “How _vulgar_ , Iwa- _chan_!”

“Fuck off. I’m still mad at you.”

It was as if Hajime could _see_ the veil of disappointment circling around him like a sickly snake. “Okay.” Oikawa fiddled with his thumbs. Little wisps of energy swirled around his hands. “Do you know when you’ll stop being mad at me?”

Hajime glowered at him. It was right up his customary alley. Oikawa squirmed. _Good._ Fear was an emotion he could work with. He glowered some more.

“Alright, I’m sorry for the stupid question.” Oikawa caved. _As he should._

But despite how mad, how _enraged_ he was, perhaps Hajime was being a little too hard on him. Just a little. He looked at Oikawa’s hunched shoulders and ducked head, and felt himself bend. He had never been good at holding grudges, especially when it came to Oikawa.

“It’s good to see you alive and kicking.” Hajime admitted, albeit grudgingly.

Instantly, theatrically large tears began forming in Oikawa’s eyes at a scarily rapid pace. “ _Iwa-chan_ -” he blubbered.

And yeah. This was why he didn’t want to say it out loud. _Why are you like this?_ He thought as he stared ahead, trying his hardest to not react to his melodramatic childhood friend. _Why can’t you be normal?_

But normal was not a word easily applied to Oikawa Tooru. Even before he became the demon king, he was a peculiar case. That was to say, he was more mischievous, more cunning. He knew how to manipulate grown-ups into letting him have his way better than any other kid. He led, and Hajime followed, inseparable, because Oikawa knew best about having fun. A peculiar case, yes, but no stranger than any other child could be. He wasn’t normal, but he wasn’t _abnormal_ either, at least until he turned.

Hajime hadn’t believed it at first. All he'd known for sure was his village was ruined, and he'd mourned all the way from Aoba, where he had happened to be visiting a distant cousin. (He had been too young to mourn for a loss this big. That had been his first run-in with mourning.) After that, he hadn't exactly been able to _return_ to his home, so he'd stayed in the city and learned to become a swordsman. It had been the best choice he had. (It had been the only choice he had.)

Then had came the rumors of a demon demolishing Date, which had been odd, because demons weren’t a confrontational kind.

It hadn't been until even later that he'd seen what had become of his friend.

Iwaizumi Hajime, aged 13, an apprentice swordsman, had not been much of a match against a berserk demon at all.

And if you asked Hajime now, he would not be able to recall that encounter very clearly any more. All he knew was at first he had been relieved to see a dear friend he was sure perished. Then, confusion, bewilderment, fear.

It had been his friend at first, but then, Hajime had no longer been able to recognize the person in front of him.

Neither had Oikawa, apparently, because he had staggered back with a string of stuttered apologies and fled.

There had been a nasty bond fracture in Hajime’s left femur in Oikawa’s wake. He had to be sent to the countryside to rest. It had healed eventually, but on worse days his leg felt weak, and he had to sit down to prevent himself from limping all over the place.

Hajime had wanted to talk to Oikawa after that, because he just hadn't been able to match the image of a high-spirited child from his childhood to the bloodthirsty tyrant from everybody’s chatter.

He had joined the crusade to bring forth Oikawa’s downfall, because that had been what everyone did. And he’d thought maybe there’d been a misunderstanding, that this demon king had actually been a separate person the entire time.

Over the years, he’d caught glimpses of cold hard evidence. He’d also gotten a handful of run-ins with Oikawa, and the way he spoke and behaved had been irrefutable. Oikawa had never been able to shake off his fidgets.

Hajime sighed.

“You put too much trust in me.” he said. “We haven’t seen each other in years. How do you know I’m not going to turn you in?”

“Iwa- _chan_.” Oikawa replied, tucking away his exaggerated sniffles. “You’re not going to turn me in, are you?”

It was posed as a question, but there was an absolute confidence in his voice that Hajime envied him for possessing.

“No.” he agreed. “They’re just going to kill you. I don’t see how it will do anyone any good.”

Oikawa wiped at his face, the motion deliberate and slow, like he was stalling for time.

Time to do what? Think? Plan? Scrutinize?

“How do you know I’m not going to stir up another awful catastrophe?” he finally questioned, face twisted into an obnoxious smile.

He was toying a chess board, and maybe he didn’t trust Hajime all that well after all if Oikawa was testing him like this.

Hajime blinked at him, unimpressed. He wasn’t sure what answer Oikawa was looking for, but he wasn’t sure it mattered to him either. “You wiped yourself like a blank slate for a reason. You have a chance to start anew. I don’t think you’re so stupid to go down the exact same path twice.”

If Oikawa was no dumber than the child from his memories, then for sure he knew better than to lay all that effort to waste. 

It was the past that couldn't be changed.

"You did a lot of pretty awful things." Hajime said. "How are you going to come to terms with that?"

"Why do you think I would feel anything about it?"

Hajime shrugged. How was he supposed to know? He hadn't known Oikawa for a long, long time, and he had no idea how to begin to explain the feeling. Faith? Or was it hope?

His bad leg ached and he felt his muscles twitch under the table.

Oikawa noticed. Hajime wasn’t sure how, but he did, and gone was the indifferent facade, replaced by something smaller, more personal, sadder.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you.” Oikawa said quietly.

Out of all the things Hajime had thought he would say, this had not been high up on the list.

He quirked up a questioning eyebrow.

“I mean, my life has sort of spiraled out of control these past few years.”

“No shit.” Hajime snorted, physically unable to hold back a quip. Understatement of the century.

Oikawa shot him a pointed look, and he at least had the good sense to know that he should hold his tongue better.

“Anyway.” Oikawa cleared his throat, to mask embarrassment, Hajime assumed. “I’m not sure any apology could be sufficient enough. We both know the things I did were inexcusable.” His gaze dropped to the surface of the table top, but Hajime was getting the feeling he was looking _through_ it. “Does it make me a bad person to run away from the consequences?”

And well, that really wasn’t Hajime’s question to answer.

But he _could_ , however, account for his own leg.

“Yeah well.” He said. “Kinda, yeah. But at least you’re facing them now.”

“I’m irredeemable.”

“Perhaps.” Hajime said bluntly. He'd never been good at sugarcoating the truth. “But redemption is a very broad term.”

“And?”

“And I think that you’re allowed to attempt to compensate, even futile ones, if it helps you sleep better at night.”

“You’re too nice to me, Iwa- _chan_.”

“Am I?”

He didn’t think too much of it himself, but Oikawa was looking dangerously close to tears again, so that must mean that some impact had been done.

“Let me soothe your leg pain.” Oikawa offered with a small smile. Wisps of magic flowed in the air.

“Sure.” Hajime said.

It wasn’t forgiveness yet, but it was something.

**Author's Note:**

> I researched fractured femurs for this. ily iwa-chan (i say as i break his thigh)  
> happy haikyuu day!! (this is a coincidence I swear I didn't plan for this)  
> thank you for joining me on this ride, and you can find me on my writing blog [here](https://aechteaseawb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
